What dreams may come
by Rasain
Summary: For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come, When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause. One-shot. Warning: suicide theme


A thousand suns exploded before her eyes, burning her retinas to the point of pain. She couldn't lower her eyelids, couldn't block herself from this vision. It was real, she felt the light pouring over her like molten lava. It was scorching through her breast, through flesh and bone. Then... it reached her heart. With every beat, her body absorbed the energy. With every breath, her lungs filled with the smell of power. And with every muscle that spasmed under her skin, the renewed force within her pushed back towards the surface and pulled her along to new heights. It was very much like flying, she could even feel air playing through her hair and eagles rocketing from the sky in her direction. She was spinning and laughing and living. This was vitality. It was life. It was fantasy altogether.

Then her jelly feet met the solid ground. She fell. The sand scrapped at her face and the impact crushed flesh against bone.

Ichigo became aware of hands impatiently slapping the illusion away. Cold hands. Still, her eyes hurt. Her feet hurt. Her whole body hurt like a bitch.

Why wouldn't they let her get away from this? She didn't want this. She never asked for this. Why was it so hard for them to leave her locked away in this empty room, between the four walls of her past?

"...up! Can you hear me? Wake up!"

Someone was insistent.

With numb hands she shielded herself from the blows and the slapping ceased soon enough. She couldn't raise her arms enough to protect her face, but the simple movement caught the stranger's eye. She wanted to be left alone. She didn't feel her lips, so she couldn't tell him that.

Was it a he? Maybe. Her eyes were still adjusting... or were they irreparably damaged? No, they weren't. She could tell they were still there. Somehow.

"That's my girl. Come on, help me a little here."

Yep, definitely a he. And_ he _pulled her from the floor by the shoulders, until her back rested against his warm chest. Or was it a blanket? No, a chest. She felt his breaths and the beats beneath his sternum. Panic. He was panicked.

God, why was her head so heavy? Where were her feet? Were they still there, attached to her body? She couldn't tell.

The stranger's fingers hastily went over her forehead, cheekbone and nose. They stopped on her lower lip, which felt battered and bruised, swollen. It stung, so Ichigo tried to turn her face away from the touch.

"No, kitten, lemme see."

She heard a sharp intake of breath when her head lolled to his shoulder. She was exhausted.

"Fuck." He swore urgently, slipping an arm under her legs and bringing her closer to him. "What did you do, Ichigo? Why did you do this?"

She could now tell that he carried her out of the room. His shoe sent one of the deserted bottles of J&amp;D into the nearest wall and it shattered, sprawling pieces of glass all over the floor. Was he mad at her? Was he disgusted by the scars on her arms? Did she care? Did she want him to feel something toward her pathetic attempt to take her own life?

"You hear me?" The words were spoken right into her ear and she winced from the pain they brought her. Why was her head hurting so much? She felt like a wreck! "You'll be alright, kitten. Hold on."

There was no point in trying to figure out where she was or what time was it. One moment everything was dark, the next one a neon light spiked through her eyelids right into her brain and the yell she let out caused the stranger to tighten his arms around her.

Someone, a different someone, gasped. Were there more people in the room? What was that smell? Meds? Hospital?

God, she hurt!

"Overdose," the stranger holding her croaked. "She needs help!"

"You have to let her down, sir. "

No, nonono! He couldn't let her go so easily!

"Shh, love, I'm here."

„Step away, sir!"

She could tell the exact moment when the doors closed behind her, because his warmth couldn't be felt anymore. Or maybe was it because the air was coming through the window? It smelled like May flowers, fresh.

Wait a minute, she wasn't awake anymore, was she? No, she wasn't. She was back up in the air, looking over the field bordered by the mountains. The eagles were above her head, and there were the suns. Her eyes still stung. The thousands suns just exploded. The energy within her hummed like a bouquet of wires, snapping back and front inside her. Oh, and there was her beautiful boy, his chocolate eyes warming her cold skin - _Aoyama-san_!

As she cupped his hand in her own, her throat constricted around a knot that blocked the airstream. Something was missing. She left something back at the hospital, didn't she?


End file.
